


Take Comfort in Your Friends

by newisalwaysbetter



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: All this is on the way, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Capture and Rescue, Caretaking, F/M, Feelings, Flynn whump later, LadyWhump, Lucy Whump, Lucy is not a damsel in distress but she does need help, Misunderstandings, Pain, Protective!Everyone, Whump, multi chapter fic, protective!flynn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newisalwaysbetter/pseuds/newisalwaysbetter
Summary: Lucy deserves good things. Unfortunately, she has to go through a lot of pain first.A whumpy fic in ten parts, wherein Lucy is kidnapped and Wyatt and Rufus recruit Flynn to help get her back. It's supposed to be a one-time thing, but it doesn't work out that way. There's gentle touches, misunderstandings, and lots of feelings.(Late S1. Canon-compliant garcy and implications of lyatt.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles are, appropriately enough, from "Everybody Hurts" by R.E.M.  
> General warning throughout this fic for pain, blood, and injury; canon-typical, nothing too gory, but just so you're warned. The Rippers are a Clockwork Orange-style 1940s gang I've invented for the sole purpose of causing Lucy pain, as one does.
> 
> As always, I take fic requests over at to-hell-with-oblivion on tumblr :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of whump in this one, but it's just setup for chapter two, which will be a doozy :) even in S1, all Lucy's friends are worried about her. Enjoy.

Flynn had the good manners to come in through the front door, as instructed in the message they had sent. He sauntered into their hotel room, head hung low and dark eyes intent. Wyatt was waiting for him, leaning against a card table with his pistol leveled at Flynn's chest. Rufus hovered behind him. Flynn stopped in the doorway, hand twitching towards his pistol.

"Just try it," Wyatt snarled. The knuckles of his other hand were white on the table's edge. "We'd like your help, but we could do without, and I'm not opposed to putting a bullet in you if I need."

"You can relax." Flynn's spotted Wyatt's nervous twitching, decided not to try him, and raised his hands in mock surrender. "If I'd wanted you dead, I wouldn't have come in through the front door, mm?"

Wyatt clenched his jaw, but gestured with the gun. Flynn kept one hand up as he turned to close the door behind him. When he turned back around, Flynn nodded. "Rufus." Rufus didn't nod back. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Rufus took a deep breath. "We need your help."

"Well. I have the strangest feeling of deja vu." Flynn advanced into the room, hands clasped behind his back. Wyatt noticed him scanning the room. "Where's Lucy?"

"Exactly." Rufus shuffled forward, hands in his pockets. "About that. The, um, Rippers got her."

"The  _ Rippers? _ You're serious." Flynn stopped short. "I'm sorry, how long ago was  _ this? _ "

"Couple of hours," Rufus said.

"Which is why we have to stop talking," Wyatt snapped, "and start--"

"What, you think I'm some sort of superhero?" It was an unexpected outburst, and Wyatt and Rufus exchanged a look. Flynn hardly seemed to notice them as he paced. His voice was irate, on the edge of panicked. "You're  _ Delta Force-- _ if you can't singlehandedly take down a gang of drugged-up, murderous 1940s psychopaths, then how should I--" he broke off, rubbing his mouth.

"We do have a plan," Rufus said.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear this," Flynn scoffed.

"It's a  _ good plan, _ " Rufus said shortly. "It'll work. But it does have one little hurdle, um, which is--"

"It's a three-man job," Wyatt cut in brusquely. "Are you in?"

Flynn cocked his head. "...Why ask me?"

"We're low on options," Wyatt growled. Then his gaze dropped. "Also, you like Lucy better than you like us."

Flynn smiled sardonically. "I'm flattered."

"You shouldn't be." Rufus advanced on Flynn, voice gaining strength. "Lucy wrote that journal you need so much, right? And you need her to survive to write it, which she might not if we leave her with the Rippers. No Lucy; no journal." Flynn gazed down at Rufus, who held his stare. "Also, she's the only one of us who hasn't tried to kill you."

Flynn held his gaze for a long moment. Then he gave a serpentine nod.

"What do you need me to do?"

"It's a simple job; in and out. Two guys to distract them, and one to go in and get Lucy." Wyatt's eyes were hard. "Are. You. In?"

Flynn raised his eyebrows. "You want  _ me _ to make a distraction?"

"No," Rufus said tightly, "we want you to get Lucy."

"What? Why?"

"Oh, come on, why d'you need to--" Wyatt complained.

Rufus cut in. "You're most used to working alone; and we need someone to get Lucy who can use a gun; and, once you're armed, Wyatt and I don't want you anywhere near us."

Flynn folded his hands behind him and grimaced. "Fair enough. Anything else?"

"We'll give you the address. Try not to raise any alarms; we want to fight as few of these sons of bitches as possible. Get in, get Lucy, and meet us back at this safehouse."

Flynn made a face. "Okay..."

"You'll do it because Lucy was injured when she was captured. And the Rippers aren't exactly running a field hospital." Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest. "And neither are you. Unless Lucy comes back with  _ us, _ she won't live to write that journal."

"And wouldn't your lives be easier if she didn't?"

Wyatt and Rufus froze. Flynn began to pace, speaking deliberately. "Say Lucy dies. She never writes the journal; I never learn about Rittenhouse, and you two never get recruited to stop me. Your families are safe, and so are you." Flynn spread his hands. "Look me in the eye and tell me you haven't dreamed of that."

"With Lucy's life on the line?" Rufus exclaimed. "You're sick, man."

"Not for a second," Wyatt said.

Flynn's cold eyes swept them, and he nodded. "Good. Just checking." He offered his hand. "The address?"

Wyatt stepped forward. "One last thing. You hurt her--" There was uncertainty in his eyes, and he was breathing hard. "You know."

Behind him, Rufus nodded. "That goes for me, too."

"You're loyal," Flynn exclaimed. "That's good. Stupid, but good."

"So we understand each other, then?" Wyatt squared his shoulders. "We clear?"

"Crystal."

"Shake on it." Flynn obliged, holding Wyatt's gaze. He came away with a piece of paper in his hand. "There's the address. Get on it."

"Don't push your luck, Wyatt." As Flynn was headed out the door, Rufus stopped him.

"Wait. Shake on it with me, too."

Flynn gave him a dry look.

"Oh, I'm not joking." Rufus fixed his warm, bright gaze on Flynn's cold one. "Because if you don't bring Lucy back alive and well, Wyatt's not the one you'll have to worry about."


	2. Hold On, Hold On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lucy whump begins. A very garcy chapter.  
> Warnings: blood, canon-compliant violence and injuries, and a mention of sexual assault, though none occurs.

Deep in the concrete bowels of an abandoned factory, Lucy dragged herself along the ground.

She hadn't stopped struggling when the Rippers cuffed her, or when they beat her, or when her back ripped open and bled freely, or even when her legs broke with an audible _crack_. Even with tears of pain streaming down her face and her voice hoarse from screaming, she had lashed out with her cuffed fists at the ankles of her captors.

(Distantly, she wondered if Wyatt would have told her not to antagonize them, but Wyatt wasn't here and so long as they were beating her, they weren't doing anything worse.)

She'd gotten a boot to the face for her trouble, and the pain of a broken nose had forced her eyes shut. She couldn't be sure, but she had thought in that moment that the factory had trembled around her. What was clear was that the men were yelling and running out of the room. One of them gave her with a parting kick to the stomach that left her gasping for breath.

But in their hurry, the Rippers forgot to lock the door.

Lucy couldn't stand, and her wrists were still cuffed together, but she found that by digging her nails into the concrete, she could drag her broken body a few inches forward. The beating had shredded her clothes, and the cold air on her body told Lucy that she must be nearly naked. She was breathing hard with every pull, muscles straining in agony. Blood ran freely from her nose and mouth, dripping onto the gritty floor. Her belly scraped against it as she crawled, leaving a bloody track smeared behind her. The chain connecting her ankles jingled with every movement, and although the thought of being found trying to escape made her go cold, Lucy clung to the ragged edges of determination.

That had been an hour ago.

Lucy didn't know where she was. She didn't know how far she'd gone. She was halfway down yet another dim concrete hall. She wasn't sure if she was even moving any more.

Her hands were bleeding. Her fingernails had ripped off shortly before her left arm went numb and useless, and Lucy was struggling to move her weight on the strength of the ruined fingertips of her right hand. Her broken nose had clotted, and the blood had dried tacky across her mouth. She trembled with exhaustion and cold. Tears streamed down her face, but Lucy didn't dare make a sound.

Then she heard the footsteps.

 _No, no, no._ Panic overcame her last scraps of rationality, and Lucy scrabbled in the dirt, trying to back up. In her heart she knew it was useless. She'd never get away from them in time.

Meanwhile, Flynn advanced down the hall of the factory. He kept close to the wall, pistol in hand. Against all odds, Rufus and Wyatt's distraction seemed successful. He'd managed to evade the guards left at the front of the building, and he had yet to encounter anyone inside.

He could only hope, grimly, that they had left Lucy behind.

Something moved in the gloom ahead, and Flynn flattened himself against the wall, leveling his pistol at the form in the darkness. He strode forward, brandishing the silencer, and snarled, "You move, I shoot."

 _Flynn._ Lucy recognized that voice, and her stomach dropped. In her current state, she was completely at his mercy.

His heavy footsteps were rapidly approaching. As the numbness spread up her good arm, a squeak of pain escaped Lucy's clenched teeth. The arm gave up as his dark form loomed over her, and Lucy sank to the earth, unable to keep from sobbing in frustration at the helplessness of her body. She saw, through her tears, the muzzle of Flynn's pistol hovering over her. A dull surprise took her. 

_So this is how it goes._

There was nothing she could do. Lucy curled into a ball in the dirt. Her arms were unwieldy as clubs, but she managed to drag them over her head, protecting herself. She didn't have the strength to fight.

Flynn was about to fire anyway--he cared little for the lives of the Rippers--when he thought he heard the form on the ground issue a broken little sob.

 

" _Lucy?_ "

A voice in the far back of his head reminded him that they had to _move, dammit,_ but Flynn was momentarily overcome by the sight before him. He was used to seeing Lucy brilliant and defiant, armed with her teammates and friends; not like this, broken and abandoned. What little light there was flashed off the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, and the ragged remains of her clothes revealed her bare back, which was still shiny with blood.

The sight of that shocked him into action, and with a glance up and down the hall, Flynn holstered his pistol deliberately and knelt beside her. He reached out a hand to her, and said her name again.

Lucy curled tighter into herself, visibly trembling. Her mouth opened to sob, but her throat was so dry that all that came out was broken little rasps.

Altogether, rather more of her was revealed than was comfortable, but Flynn assessed her with a practical soldier's eye, taking in the purple bruising wherever her fragile bones neared the skin, the bleeding welts at her wrists and ankles, and the redness along her underside where the gravel floor had rubbed her raw. Her eyes shone enormous in the dark, teary with pain and terror.

When he reached out to her, Flynn's kept his voice and touch gentle.

Lucy still flinched away from his hand, but when she gritted her teeth at him through the tears, Flynn caught a glimpse of her usual fire.

"Don't touch me," she breathed with all the dignity she could muster. Her voice cracked and she gasped, "Please."

Flynn swallowed hard and his eyes went cold. By all rights, he knew, he ought to just swing her over his shoulder and carry her out; it was by far the easiest solution, and almost certainly what she expected.

He realized she was cringing away from his open hand, so Flynn quickly laid it on the ground, palm down, in front of her. "Shh, I won't touch you. I'm here to get you out."

"Get _away_ from me," Lucy insisted. "Don't you dare, don't you--" Her bound fists swung wildly at him, and when her knuckles bounced off the concrete, she yelped.

Watching her, something ached in Flynn's chest. His first instinct was to grab her wrists, but instead he took one of her hands in his and squeezed, feeling her pulse flutter beneath his fingers.

"Don't hurt yourself," he said softly. Lucy exhaled, and Flynn found himself unexpectedly dismayed to see resignation in her eyes. This was what she had expected. Lucy struggled weakly in his grip, her breath shallow.

Flynn shushed her gently and did his best to explain that he came in peace, but Lucy couldn't seem to hear him. " _Don't,_ " she insisted, voice and eyes panicky.

Flynn took a deep breath. "Hey," he nickers, as though calming a horse. That seemed to stir a memory inside of her, and Lucy's brow furrowed. For a moment, she stopped struggling, and some of the fear-induced panic behind her eyes cleared. Flynn took that opportunity to release her hand and to reach out to cradle her head.

With as much care as his brusque form possessed, Flynn slid that arm under her shoulders to help prop her upright. Flynn watched her as he did so, waiting for her to order him to put her down, but Lucy watched him right back, not helping but not fighting either. She was very close now, and Flynn could feel the cold of her skin against his.

In other circumstances they would have been enemies, but here, away from Rittenhouse and their respective men, Flynn only saw a person in need of help. His protective instincts screamed to wrap her cold body in his warm arms.

Lucy saw something in those dark eyes she didn't like, but this close, all she could do was hold her bound hands up between them. Behind her hands, tears flowed freely down her bloody face. Her face was very empty; it wasn't even clear that she knew she was weeping. Flynn's gut jerked horribly.

"Can you hear me?" he murmured.

Flynn reached up to take one of her hands in his, gently pulling them away from her face. Lucy's head was sagging to the side, so Flynn used the hand at her back to cup the nape of her neck, holding it up, trying to help her listen. Her dark eyes focused for a second, and Flynn saw again, behind the haze of pain and fear, the spirit he had recognized in her from the first.

Behind her ragged curtain of hair, Lucy nodded.

"That's good," he said. "I'm going to get you away from here, you understand?"

Lucy's gaze hardened. Only her trembling lip betrayed her.

"And then I'm going to take you back to Wyatt and Rufus," he said, and her eyes widened. It sounded too good to be true. Something like the shadow of a smile passed over Flynn's face. "Is that okay?"

"That's okay," Lucy whispered back, and her eyes filled with fresh tears, this time of relief. "That's okay." She nodded and squeezed Flynn's hand, and he was momentarily shaken by her blind trust.

"One moment," he whispered to Lucy, and went to lay her back down. She hissed in his face, eyes wild with desperation, and fisted both hands in his shirt.

"I need to set you down," Flynn insisted, but Lucy's head lolled forward to rest against his warm chest, and her tears were wet in his shirt.

"All right," he said after a moment. "All right." He held her to him with one hand while he slid his other arm out of his longcoat, then switched arms to shed it completely. Lucy clung to him like a koala while he wrapped the oversized coat around her body, hiding her near-nakedness.

When she was fully covered, Flynn cupped Lucy's cheek to look down into her dark eyes. He couldn't resist thumbing some of the blood from her lips. "Any better?"

Her eyes were wary. "I won't let any of them hurt you," Flynn promised her firmly.

"Don't let them hurt me," Lucy whispered.

"I won't, I'll..." Flynn wet his lips. "I'll keep you safe."

"Thank you." Lucy rested the weight of her head against his hand. Her eyes flickered shut. " _Thank you._ "

Flynn swallowed hard. She shouldn't trust him so much. He'd done nothing to deserve it.

"We need to go," he said, gruffer than strictly necessary. Lucy didn't respond, but continued to breathe against his chest, incoherent with relief.

Flynn took her face in his hand again. It wasn't clear which one of them was shaking. Maybe both. He wiped away her tears and whispered, "Can you stand?"

He realized when her face fell that he already knew; Lucy's legs were crumpled in a way that that couldn't be natural. "No," she was whispering, "they broke my legs." Flynn's heart broke right then, but Lucy went on: "I tried to fight them--I, I..."

"That's okay," he breathed into her hair. "That's all right. I've got you." Lucy nodded, and Flynn watched her face as he scooped her up in one arm. She was light as a bird, and Flynn felt a sudden flash of concern. Had she been eating properly?

But that was _not_ his job, he reminded himself. Probably Lucy would have accepted anyone's help in this state; he just happened to be the closest option. He was there to get her out, and nothing more.

Though honestly, that was hard to remember when Lucy was breathing shallowly against his neck, and her eyelashes fluttering on his pulse point. It made him think of other things, quiet dreams he'd had, but Flynn pushed that all away. He had long ago.

"Put your hands here--around my neck," he instructed. Lucy hesitated, avoiding his gaze. "You need help?"

Lucy gritted her teeth at the challenge and did her best to comply with what little strength she had. Flynn didn't say a word, but helped Lucy arrange her limp arms to cling to him. "That's good," he murmured, and Lucy shivered.

Flynn rose, cradling her tightly against his chest. The movement jostled her broken legs, and Lucy stifled a scream in his shoulder. Flynn touched her hair, once, barely. "What is it?"

"I'm fine." Lucy was breathing hard from the pain, but she forced the words out. "Just...get me out of here. _Please._ "

"Hold onto me," Flynn said, and Lucy buried her face in his chest. Before retrieving the gun from his waistband, Flynn made sure his coat was tucked securely around her. She was so cold.

He was distracted momentarily. Lucy's breathing had slowed, but her eyes were closed and her wounds were still leaking freely into the jacket, and Flynn could feel shivers wracking her small frame. She needed something more to warm her, new clothes, a shower, someone to set her broken legs, bandages and antiseptic for her wounds, a bottle of water, warm food...

Flynn's thoughts of what Lucy needed were stopped short by the knowledge that once he brought her back, Wyatt and Rufus wouldn't let him near Lucy. (And rightly so.)

The least he can do is bring her back safe.

"Let me do this for you," Flynn whispered lowly, and brushed a kiss to her hair before carrying her down the hall.

Lucy sagged into his arms, warming her cold body against his hard, warm one, wrapped up in Flynn's arms and Flynn's coat. It was hardly what she expected, but she couldn't bring herself to be afraid. Instead, Lucy felts only exhaustion and relief, and when Flynn's breath ghosted over her head, she took it as a promise of safety, as permission to let her eyes drift closed and to fall into blessed unconsciousness.


End file.
